


Thinking of Jumping

by Dira Sudis (dsudis)



Series: Brothelers [3]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Colby was standing on the parapet edge of the roof.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Thinking of Jumping

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first posted September 22, 2006.

Colby was standing on the parapet edge of the roof, squinting against the glare as he looked north to the mountains, when he heard a fire door slam behind him. Footsteps crunched toward him across the gravel and stopped short, so Colby turned his head to look.

David was standing there, wearing off-duty jeans (one size bigger than on-duty jeans, still tight enough to make Colby's mouth go dry) and a t-shirt. And sunglasses. He had his hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face, and when Colby looked at him he said, "Thinking of jumping?"

Colby smiled a little back and looked down at the drop framed between his toes. Ten stories down into the decorative rock garden; but it was only an eight-foot drop to the net, strong and well-anchored and with an inviting sag, ready to catch any client who managed to stray off the edge of the roof. "Thinking about it," Colby said, looking back just in time to catch David's smile flashing out, startlingly bright in his dark face. Colby swallowed hard, and thought that he really should have worn sunglasses.

"Word to the wise," David said, walking toward a point on the parapet ten feet to Colby's left. "You get less shit about it afterward if you take the rope ladder with you when you go." A section of the smooth stucco interior of the parapet turned out to be a door, swinging open under David's touch to reveal a coiled ladder, conveniently already anchored. David grabbed the free end and tossed it over the parapet; it was weighted, and pulled the ladder out after itself.

"Cool," Colby said. He winked and stepped forward into the air. He let his legs buckle almost before his feet hit the mesh, rolling sideways and winding up on his back with his knees to his chest, staring up at David peering down at him. "You coming?"

David shook his head, but he was laughing. He sat down on the parapet edge, swung his legs over and pushed himself off, landing on his ass in the net like he'd practiced--which he probably had--only to slide downhill into the low point of the net: Colby. David's side struck his with a solid thump, setting them swinging in the net. The hardware above them made a few noises of protest, and Colby glanced up at the net's frame. "This thing's solid, right?"

"Sure," David said, stretching his legs and settling his arms behind his head, but not trying to move away from Colby. "You oughta see maintenance out here checking it. Twice a day in safety harnesses. They walk the whole thing, jumping up and down all the way."

Colby settled back against the net, bracing his feet and rocking them a little, experimentally. Nothing happened, and he unclenched his hand from the mesh. It was comfortable, like a hammock a hundred feet in the air; he could feel the depth of nothing beneath them, but heights had never bothered him much. The mountains were still there, heat-hazy in the distance, but they were on the shady side of the building, and there was a nice little breeze. And there was David, lounging at his side. Colby let his head fall back and went back to looking at the mountains, his eyes half-closed.

After a while, David said, "Homesick?"

Colby's head jerked up like it was on a string. David had taken his sunglasses off and hooked them in the collar of his shirt, and he was watching Colby with his eyes unguarded; Colby had to look away. For a second he wondered if the question was some kind of test. For all the little things they all knew about each other, no one ever talked about their pasts, where they came from or why they were here. Colby imagined that it was sort of like prison that way. But this was David, and he and David had been working together for months now. He was a good guy. You could tell a lot by the way a guy treated talent, and clients when they were too wasted to know the difference, and David was unfailingly kind.

"Yeah," Colby said, rubbing at a join in the mesh with one finger, looking no further. "I used to, uh--" but David had started it, so Colby thought he might as well just go right out on that limb. "I used to do the same thing when I was in Afghanistan. I'd go up somewhere with a decent view and look at the mountains. Even if they weren't the right ones it was like being able to see home."

"Mm," David said, but Colby could hear the _roger that_. David moved his foot, rocking them, and Colby smiled and looked up at the sky. "I tried to do that when I first got to LA," David said after a while. "Walked around trying to find some street where I could forget where I was, but noplace in LA is anything like the Bronx."

Colby nodded, tucking away the reciprocal confidence; even after years in the Army, he was hopeless at picking out accents more specific than, say, _Southern_. He'd had David pegged for _city_, but that much was obvious in a hundred ways. _The Bronx_, he repeated to himself, and smiled a little. Silence fell again; David, whenever Colby dared a glance, almost seemed to be sleeping, except that Colby could feel a slight tension wherever their bodies touched.

He asked, "You miss it?" as he moved, and when Colby looked over David had turned to stare out toward the mountains. Colby let himself stare for a minute, the back of David's neck above his t-shirt and the curled line of his back.

"The Army?" he said, and David nodded but didn't look back at him, and that made it easy to speak. "Yeah," Colby said. "More than anything."

David nodded again, relaxing into the netting. "I miss the Bureau," he said. "I knew I had to get out, but even--" He stopped abruptly, his shoulders tensing visibly, and Colby wanted to reach out and touch him, stroke a soothing hand down his spine, the way they'd been taught to touch talent, kind and non-threatening. He curled his fingers into a fist instead, and pressed his knuckles against his thigh. David had almost said something to him--was still saying it, really, by his silence and the set of his shoulders, even if Colby couldn't exactly make out the words. He deserved something in return, and Colby had been waiting four months to say one word to anyone about why he wasn't in uniform anymore. The words welled up like blood; Colby didn't think he could have stopped them if he wanted to. "I didn't have much choice in the matter," he said.

David's head turned, and David gave him a steady, assessing look that made Colby look away. Maybe it had been better to keep his mouth shut; he stared down at the distant ground, and he could feel the net holding him up but he still felt like he was falling.

"Outed?" David said finally, like it could happen to anyone.

Colby stole a glance up at him, and his eyes weren't pitying, weren't giving him the careful, kind, patient look David turned on talent when they'd gotten into a scrape. David was looking at him just like he always had. "Yeah," Colby said. He shrugged, his shoulders stiff. "Thought I was being careful enough--nobody I knew, no Americans, only on leave--but there's no such thing as careful enough if somebody wants to nail you, not when you're living with these guys in a tent in the middle of the fucking desert. My CO was a real standup guy--not going after anybody, just really rules-are-rules, you know?" David nodded, turning a little so his body faced Colby, lying almost on his side in the net. There was a space between them now, and Colby could feel the wind blowing through the gap. "Somebody told him--I don't know what. He called me in, said he'd heard an allegation, asked me if I had anything to say." Colby looked down at his own hands and felt himself smile. "I lied like hell, but it was no good. Whatever he had, it was serious. That was it, I was shipped home two days later. Dishonorable discharge."

He didn't look at David, but he felt David's body settle back against his, David's hand coming to rest on his knee. It didn't feel like every other time they'd ever touched--hands or shoulders brushing, a smack on the back--like now that David knew, the weird illicit thrill was gone. Somehow it was still the best thing Colby had ever felt. "My folks don't answer their phone," Colby said softly, almost a whisper. "When I send them mail it comes back. I keep sending it just so they'll know where I am if they need to find me."

He heard David exhale, and the hand on his knee squeezed. "Happy Father's Day, huh?"

Colby smiled grimly and looked out toward the mountains, hazy in the distance. "Yeah," he said. "Happy fucking Father's Day."


End file.
